


Counterattack

by mistresscurvy



Series: Looking Like You Do [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam dresses as Beckham. Louis is not okay with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counterattack

**Author's Note:**

> So Liam decided to dress as Beckham for a fancy dress party in actual real life, and I started writing this about twenty minutes later. What even is this fandom. 
> 
> Thank you to harriet_vane for the cheerleading, to lokte for the Britpick, and to olivia_circe for the excellent beta. ♥

Louis is already halfway to being bombed by the time Liam shows up at the fancy dress wrap party. That explains some of his reaction to Liam's costume, but not all of it. 

He angrily orders another two shots as he watches Liam moving through the crowd, the Man U kit fitting him perfectly, the material loose around his biceps but snug across his chest and abs. He keeps drinking while Liam grinds up against a loose and happy Zayn, both of them laughing, completely oblivious to the fans watching them with open mouths. He stops drinking for a moment when he sees Harry doing some horrible approximation of twerking against Cal, mouth open in an exaggerated imitation of pleasure. 

Then he sees Liam coming his way, and he starts drinking again. 

"What are you having? I'll take one too," Liam half-shouts in his ear, an easy smile spread across his face for Louis. Louis wants to slap it off him, tear the jersey off his arms. Instead he shrugs and downs the shot. 

"Nothing special, just a kamikaze," he says, dropping the shot glass on the bar. 

"Ohhh, perfect shot while in Japan, Tommo, I like it! Give me one too, yeah?" Liam leans over the bar, his jaw and stubble and profile standing out in the pulsing lights of the club, hair swept back and perfect, and Louis just wants to pull it, wants to reach in and pull his hair and get him to _stop doing this._ Contrary to his carefully crafted image, Louis doesn't actually like feeling like an arsehole, and he especially doesn't like feeling like an arsehole about Liam. So he grits his teeth and punches Liam in the arm, a little harder than he knows he should. 

"I'm going to find Niall," he says in explanation when Liam turns to him. He ignores the disappointment he sees on Liam's face. Whatever that's about is nothing compared to the utter fucking torture Louis's going through. 

He tries to explain as much to Niall, without ever actually saying the names _Liam_ or _Beckham._ It doesn't seem to register for Niall, but he passes Louis a cig, which is better than sympathy, really. The nicotine clears his head a bit from the alcohol, or makes it easier to process it, or something, which is both nice and also not exactly what he needs. Because now it's even more obvious that the man standing across the room from him is actually Liam, and not Beckham himself. It's not a fantasy or a dream; it's just his own shit luck, and a bandmate who has no idea what the fuck he's doing to Louis on a daily (hourly) basis. 

The nice thing about a party as insane as this one is that it's easy to avoid Liam without having to make it obvious. There are always a million people between them, providing the perfect buffer; and if Louis is constantly keeping one eye on Liam, moving in corresponding and opposing directions at every turn, no one ever has to know that but himself. 

Or at least this should be true, and would be, if Liam didn't seem to have an internal tracking device for all four of them beeping at all times. He may not know where on the planet they are at any given time, but he always has a handle on their locations in relation to him. It's a handy talent, aside from when it makes Louis want to punch something. 

"Are you avoiding me or something?" Liam asks cheerfully when he finally catches up with Louis, the crowd working against Louis in the end. It's hard to fight his way through a crush of people this thick with any attempt at subtlety. 

Louis shakes his head, carefully not looking directly at Liam. "Nah, just making sure I see everyone, you know?" 

It would be nice if Liam got mad at him for that, called him out on the lie, did something that would justify Louis losing his shit in return. But of course he doesn't; he just nods along like that even makes any sense at all. His face is concerned mixed with drunk, which is such an unfairly good look on him--and why did Louis look at Liam's face at all? He is clearly a moron, or a masochist, or maybe both. 

"Yeah, there are a lot of people to see," Liam agrees. Louis smiles, feels the strain of it, but Liam doesn't seem to notice. Then Liam says, "That costume is fucking aces, mate," and Louis is not doing this, he won't, he can't.

He shoves his mostly full glass of whatever signature cocktail he got from the bar at Liam. "Feeling a bit poorly, going to head out before I'm sick all over you," he says quickly, not looking Liam in the eye. There's still a chance he can get out of here without making a scene on their last night of tour.

Of course Liam doesn't cooperate, that would be too easy. Instead, he reaches over and puts a comforting hand on Louis's shoulder, and it's all Louis can do not to shrug it off. "Do you need me to go back with you?" he asks, still the most helpful golden retriever of a man even when he's off his tits on alcohol and adrenaline. 

Louis manages to smile again, and even claps his hand over Liam's for a moment. "Nah man, I'm just knackered. Going to put myself to bed, I think." He squeezes Liam's hand briefly, and then makes himself let go and turn around without waiting for a reaction, pushing his way out through the crowd. 

It's a long trip back to his hotel room, a struggle to escape the crush even with security helping him through, but finally he's in the lift and down the hall and inside his blissfully quiet suite. He takes a deep breath, head tipped back against the door, blood pumping loud in his ears. It's another long minute or two before he pushes off and walks into the bathroom, each movement deliberate and careful to counteract the alcohol still in his system. 

The shower helps a lot, the heat and outstanding water pressure doing most of the work for him in getting his makeup off. He scrubs over his face and hair, scraping off the last bits of white pancake makeup, his skin turning pink and then red under the assault. It sobers him up a bit, even as the heat makes him a bit light-headed, and it's impossible not to think of Liam when he soaps up his dick. He's already half hard, his rage and frustration doing more for him than really bears thinking about. His hand is curling around and giving a tug before he can stop it, but he manages just the one before wrenching his hand away. 

The better option is clearly to turn the spray to cold water for a moment, to freeze out such thoughts. It gets him out of the shower quickly, at least, but it does nothing to actually stop his body's reaction. His dick still insistently hard and demanding, and he dries himself off roughly with the plush hotel towels, not letting himself enjoy it at all. 

His rage is still bubbling up in him, despite his best efforts. Apparently the only thing worse than staring at Liam dressed as David Beckham in the flesh is the knowledge that he's out there like that right now, only without Louis, acting as if it's a joke. He finishes drying off, tugging a t-shirt on over his head and pulling on a clean pair of pants, determined to empty the minibar by himself and find some Japanese television show to watch in a stupor.

Before he can settle in for some nice, well-earned oblivion, he flops onto his bed and checks his phone. The first text he sees is from Liam. 

_heyyyyyyyyyy, hope your ok. came back early too if you need anything xxx_

He stands up without making any conscious decision, throwing on a pair of sweats and barely remembering to grab his key card before he storms out of the room, still barefoot. Liam's room is two doors down from his, and he's stood in front of it, pounding on the door, before he can think the better of it. 

And then Liam opens the door to him, still in that fucking Man U jersey, and something snaps inside of him and it's too late to even try to stop it. Liam barely has time to say, "Hey Lou, everything alright?" before Louis loses it completely.

"You're such a fucking wanker!" he yells, pushing into Liam's chest with the meat of his palms. He follows him into the hotel room as Liam stumbles back from shock, letting the door slam behind them. Somewhere in the back of his head he's aware that he just made a scene, but he doesn't care, and it's all Liam's fucking fault, anyway. He shoves Liam again, just for good measure. 

Liam is staring at him, hands out, not even trying to retaliate, and _god,_ what does it take to get a reaction out of him anymore? "Mate, did you take something? What's going on?"

Louis throws his hands up. "Don't pretend that you're concerned for me, you twat. Not when you act like this all the fucking time."

"Act like what?" Liam asks, brow furrowed, his eyes focused on Louis. And fuck, Louis is too sober for this conversation, what the fuck was he even thinking. But it's too late to stop now.

"You _know_ what," Louis says finally, flapping his hand at Liam. "With the hair and beard and now the fucking jersey. We get it, Liam."

The almost hopeful expression that passes over Liam's face is unbearable, the worst thing ever, or at least he thought it was until Liam opens his mouth. "So you _did_ notice, then?"

"What the fuck, of course I noticed!" Louis yells. "Wait, you were doing this on purpose?"

Liam tugs the jersey out from his body a bit. "Yeah, mate, what else do you call this?" He finally sounds a bit cross, which Louis would be celebrating if he wasn't so angry himself.

"Well fuck you, then," Louis says, the air going out him, feeling completely worn out and a bit homesick. He's not used to feeling this way around Liam, and it's all so unfair, especially at the end of months of tour. A part of Louis wants to be proud of Liam, for thinking up a prank like this, even for not knowing when to fucking quit and going too far. But Liam's not supposed to be pranking Louis. Louis's supposed to be the accomplice or co-conspirator, not the victim of mockery. Not from Liam. "Congratulations on being a right cock."

The more defeated Louis feels, the more Liam's own inexplicable anger seems to build. "What the fuck are you playing at, Lou? You barely even paid attention to me all night and now you're telling _me_ to fuck off? Why did I even bother, then?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have ignored you if you hadn't decided to dress like my fucking idol, ever think of that?" Louis yells back, suddenly moved to anger again.

"Who the fuck do you think I bought this jersey for? Harry?" Liam shouts. "I thought you might like it, didn't I."

"Oh, yeah, the only thing better than you looking this good all the time is for you to literally dress like the fantasy I've been wanking over since I was twelve. Cheers, mate, thanks for rubbing it in, have fun with all that," Louis says in a burst, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. For a moment he's frozen, staring at Liam in shock, like if he doesn't move it won't have just happened. Then Liam shakes his head and the spell is broken.

"You are such a fucking idiot, Lou," Liam says angrily, and Louis is about to yell that nobody knows that better than he does himself, thanks. But before he can get another word out, Liam's hands are fisted in Louis's t-shirt and he's being dragged in for a rough kiss.

It's not gentle and it's not playful and what it really, really isn't is a joke between mates. Louis has no idea how he's managed to make Liam so frustrated that kissing him seems like the right method of attack, but he's not complaining. Instead, he fights back with his mouth, sucking Liam's lower lip into his mouth and biting down hard, so gratified by the way Liam jerks in response. The counterattack comes quickly, though, Liam getting his arms around Louis and holding him tight as he slides his tongue into Louis's mouth. Louis can't help the sound that escapes him at it; somehow his hands have slipped up around Liam's neck and are scraping over Liam's head, finally pulling hard on the long hair up top.

Liam pulls back, gasping, his mouth red and wet and open, tongue darting out over his lips. Louis doesn't know whether to feel smug or messed about or just desperately, horribly turned on. But then Liam leans in and bites down hard on his neck just below his ear, and Louis is simply holding on for dear life, his legs not steady at all.

" _Such_ a fucking idiot," Liam repeats into his neck. "I wasn't doing it to you, I was doing it _for_ you."

The words make Louis feel like he's in free fall, his heart fluttering up in his throat. Even through the hazy confusion, he's tipping his head back further, hoping that Liam will take it for the invitation it is. He's rewarded by Liam's mouth on his neck, kissing and sucking hard right where his neck meets his shoulder. "Just, you kept mentioning Beckham, and articles or whatever said I look like him, so I thought I might see if I could play it up a bit. Get your attention, maybe," Liam mumbles against his skin between kisses. 

He thinks he might actually collapse from it all, from Liam's words and his mouth and really just _all_ of him. "Well played, Payno," Louis says finally, his voice already hoarse and rough. 

Liam laughs into his neck. "Not really, since apparently you just thought I was a clueless dick."

Well. "That's sort of my thing?" Louis says hesitantly. "I mean. Obviously I don't have a problem with it."

"Shut up, Louis," Liam says fondly, and Louis's about to say something clever like _make me_ or _you should shut up_ when suddenly Liam is kissing him again, and Louis can't think of anything else. 

The anger that seemed so intractable moments ago is swept aside by want and need, his desire immediate and demanding. Louis's shaking with it, his hands clutching Liam closer, fingers digging into the jersey that now seems like an obstacle rather than an enticement. 

"Get this off," he says against Liam's mouth, tugging the offending shirt up Liam's back. 

"You sure?" Liam asks, not pulling away. "I could leave it on."

That's a thought for some time in the future, but right now it's keeping Louis from Liam's chest, his skin. "I want to see you," Louis says, his voice desperate to his own ears. 

That's enough to get Liam to tug it off, pulling it up over his head and finally revealing his chest to Louis. He's spent so much time trying not to stare at Liam's body, in these past months, that it's a bit overwhelming to have it offered up like this. But Louis's up to the challenge. 

Reaching out with both hands, he sweeps down Liam's chest with just his fingertips before sliding his hands around his waist. His skin is so soft, the light hair covering his belly and chest smoothing the way, nipples begging to be punched and pulled. 

"You, too," Liam says roughly, but Louis shakes his head. He's not done. 

Clearly Liam has other plans, though, because he's reaching out and stripping Louis's t-shirt up and off before Louis can react, arms folding around Louis's body. Louis has never felt Liam's arms like this before, the sheer strength in them as he holds Louis close for another kiss.

It's suddenly necessary to pull Liam over to the bed. Louis needs the weight of Liam over him; there's a tug of war for a moment, but Liam finally follows Louis's lead, giving into him, just like he always does. 

He thought he might feel steadier once off his feet, less like he would topple over without Liam's reliable grasp holding him up. But lying sprawled on his back with Liam trapping him there, hips pressed tight against Louis's, just makes him even more frantic, his need like an itch in the centre of his back, just out of reach. 

"Liam," he gasps, hands scratching down Liam's back and pulling his arse firmly against him. He can feel Liam's hard dick every time they grind on each other, Liam panting into his ear. "Fuck me already."

For some reason, this makes Liam pull away, which is so completely unacceptable that Louis hooks his ankles around Liam's calves in an effort to keep him where he is. "Hey, where are you going?" he demands, not caring how unattractive he probably sounds. If Liam didn't want to listen to Louis complain, he shouldn't have kissed him in the first place. 

From the look Liam gives him, he's well aware of exactly who is in his bed. "Can't exactly fuck you if we're in our pants, can I?" he asks reasonably, grinding his dick against Louis's as if to prove his point. 

It's an excellent point, the most important point really, and Louis wastes no time in rolling Liam off him so he can get his sweats and pants down in one quick motion. 

"Jesus, Louis," Liam says in a strangled voice, his eyes fixed on Louis's hand around his dick, stroking slowly. 

"Come on, hurry it up," Louis says, trying for exasperated, but tipping right over into desperate. He squeezes the base of his dick hard, staring at Liam, eyes caught on the bulge in Liam's jeans. He can't help giving himself another stroke, already right on the edge just from making out with Liam, _fuck._

With more effort than he'd like to cop to, he drags his hand away from his cock, grabbing hold of the bedsheets instead. His dick is so hard it juts away from his belly, twitching as he tries to breathe quietly. Liam doesn't take his eyes off him as he quickly skims out of his jeans and pants, crouching down next to one of his bags before Louis can get a good look at his dick. 

Propping himself up on his elbows, Louis can at least see the expanse of his back, the curve of his arse into his thighs, smooth pale skin with a hint of a flush. He's not paying attention to what Liam's doing, intent only on his body, the stretch and flex of his muscles. It startles him when Liam finally stands up and tosses a bottle of lube and a packet of condoms onto the bed next to him. 

"Once in Scouts you never truly leave, eh?" Louis jokes almost robotically, almost all of his attention on Liam standing next to the bed, staring down at him. He's hard and gorgeous, skin still tan from Australia, aside from his upper thighs and hips that never saw the sun. The contrast frames his dick, the flushed length of it standing out from his body, treasure trail leading down to his bush. As if Louis needed any help finding his way there. 

Liam snorts out a laugh. "Yeah, and if I wasn't a scout you'd be complaining about that."

"I'd be sending you out on a scavenger hunt," Louis agrees automatically, focused on Liam's hands opening the lube and slicking up his fingers. He spreads his legs for Liam to kneel between, beyond banter now, pushing himself up for a kiss. 

He's expecting Liam's fingers to immediately seek out his arse, so the feel of Liam's slicked up hand closing around his dick surprises a moan out of him. It's a lot all at once, Liam's tongue in his mouth and his big hand gripping him, thumb flicking up over the head. 

He breaks the kiss, gasping, "Too close," arching up when Liam takes his hand away, already missing his touch. 

"Sorry, sorry," Liam whispers, barely pausing before shifting forward and kissing Louis again, fingers pressing back until they're circling Louis's hole. 

The intense pressure of the first finger sliding in is just enough to bring Louis back from the edge, the hint of discomfort as his body adjusts welcome and necessary. He focuses on kissing Liam, the easy slide of their lips, the rough feel of Liam's beard against his face. It's still a bit of a shock when Liam slowly presses in a second finger, and the burn and stretch of it make him gasp. 

"Alright?" Liam murmurs against his mouth, and Louis nods quickly, kissing Liam again before he can make Louis speak. His entire body is already trembling, not from pain or even pleasure, just from everything all at once, some of the adrenaline from his earlier anger still working through his system. But Liam is solid above him, and inside him, fingers thorough as they stretch him, thumb pressed up right behind his bollocks. 

When Liam pulls his fingers out, Louis whines and holds Liam to him, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders. Liam shushes at him, kneeling up just enough to get a condom on and pouring more lube into his palm. "Not done yet, don't worry," he says. 

"Wasn't worried, just wanted you to get on with it-- _oh,_ " Louis breaks off as Liam pushes his fingers back inside, rougher this time, fingers slick and probing. There's no resistance at all now, Louis's body just opening up for him, and then Liam presses further up and in and Louis is gripping Liam's arms so hard, mouth open and panting. "Keep doing that," he gasps out, moaning as Liam obeys. A part of him is outraged that Liam's overwhelming competence apparently extends to this, too, but most of him is focused on not falling completely to pieces, not yet. 

"More?" Liam asks, mouth right next to Louis's ear. 

Louis's nodding even as he says, "No," sighing with frustration when Liam stops moving. " _No,_ I mean, I don't want more, I want you to fuck me. So yes."

"I hope that made sense in your head, because it definitely didn't out here," Liam says with a laugh, and Louis would yell or maybe kick him, except that Liam is sliding his fingers out and pressing Louis's legs further out and up. "Alright?" Liam asks again. 

Liam's voice is steady, but his face tells a different story, cheeks flushed and mouth red and shiny. It's a bit mindblowing to Louis, too, that he's finally got Liam in his bed and all it took was a proper strop and a bit of a scene in a hotel room. But he's going to do what he can to make sure Liam doesn't leave his bed again, or at least not for some time now. 

"Yeah, Liam," he says, fingers sweeping over Liam's cheeks, thumb catching on Liam's lower lip. "You?"

Liam nods, then twists his head so he can kiss Louis's palm, and Louis is about to draw him down for another kiss when Liam nudges his dick up against Louis's arse and starts to slowly press in. 

Even after Liam's fingers, it knocks Louis's breath from him. His dick's a bit confused, not sure how exactly to respond, but the rest of him feels utterly safe in Liam's arms, so he figures his dick will catch up. Liam's moving so slowly, and all Louis can do is clutch Liam's face with his hands and kiss him, first his mouth and then across his cheek, lips catching on his stubble. 

He feels it when Liam finally bottoms out, bollocks deep in him, arms and abs and everything tense as he holds still. Louis's grateful for the chance to breathe, Liam's dick huge and hot inside of him. Then Liam exhales harshly against Louis's neck and pulls out just a bit before thrusting back in. 

Louis moans and digs his fingers into Liam's shoulders; it's still a lot to take, but every time Liam presses back in it gets a little easier, until his hands are moving down Liam's back to grip his arse, pulling him in harder. 

It builds with each thrust, Louis's body rocking with Liam's as he fucks Louis. The slide between their bodies grows slick with their sweat, Louis's dick rubbing up against Liam's stomach, the friction just what he needs. And then it's like a switch is flicked, when suddenly there's nothing careful or hesitant about any of it, and Liam is fucking him hard and frantic. His rhythm's still as steady as a metronome, but Louis's determined to wreck that, to make Liam as desperate as he is. 

He reaches up and pulls hard on Liam's hair, licking and sucking and biting down on his neck. Liam's hips jerk in response, and then he thrusts in even harder, making Louis gasp. Liam shifts them up, changes the angle of Louis's leg on his next thrust, and Louis bites his own lower lip so hard he practically tastes blood. 

"Do that again," he begs, moaning when Liam does, head falling back against the pillow. God, he's so close now, his entire body responding to every touch from Liam. His mouth drops open again when Liam hitches up further, bracing his forearm next to Louis's head, hand sinking into his still-damp hair. 

Louis tries to kiss him back when Liam leans in, but it's all he can do to breathe with him. Then Liam's saying something, and it takes Louis some effort to parse the words. 

"You can call me Becks if you want," Liam is saying against his mouth, and the words float through Louis's head for a moment before he's surging up and kissing Liam fiercely, suddenly angry all over again.

"Fuck you," he bites into Liam's mouth, holding Liam to him when he feels Liam jerk back at the words. "Fuck you, I know exactly who I'm fucking."

"Louis," Liam gasps, sounding shocked and a little wrecked, and Louis kisses him again and again. 

"Nah love, that's me," he says finally, feeling a bit giddy and also like if he doesn't come in the next two minutes he'll probably start crying or singing or something equally mortifying. "You're Liam."

Liam makes a noise that's close to a sob as he starts fucking Louis faster. But that's alright; Liam can cry. Liam _should_ cry, for thinking Louis'd want a Beckham stand-in when he could have him. 

It's become impossible to keep quiet, Liam's weight on him, the constant pressure above and inside of him dragging out each moan. Liam's arms are crooked up under Louis's shoulders, hands gripping his head tightly, Louis's arms wrapped around Liam's back. There's no finesse to Liam's thrusts now, hips pounding against Louis's arse, rhythm faltering. It's simultaneously too much and not enough to make Louis come, and then Liam jerks and shudders on a final thrust. 

"Oh fuck, Lou," he gasps out, panting against Louis's neck as he comes, dick pulsing inside of him. Louis holds Liam tightly, hands sliding over Liam's back, slick with sweat. He's desperate to come, but he can't stop touching Liam, can't take his hands off him, running his fingers through Liam's damp hair. 

Eventually Liam begins to pull away, and after a moment of trying to keep him inside Louis for just a bit longer, Louis finally lets him ease back. Louis winces at the feel of Liam carefully pulling out, his body sore and tender, and frankly uncomfortable, feeling so empty again. He's knackered and well used, and he could pass right the fuck out if his dick wasn't still hard as a rock.

Liam is staring down at him as he pulls off the condom, tying it off and chucking it off the side of the bed, barely any nod at all toward tidiness. That should be a victory for Louis, but he's too restless and almost self-conscious under Liam's gaze to celebrate. It's just Liam, he tells himself, but that doesn't make anything better at all. 

Then Liam asks, "What do you want?" and Louis knows he could make him do anything, that there's nothing he could dream up that Liam would refuse him. 

But he doesn't want any of that, as it turns out. "Just watch me?" he half answers, half begs, sliding his hand over his cock, and oh god, he's so sensitive it's almost painful, his dick leaking all over his fingers from one touch. 

"Oh _god,_ Lou," Liam whispers, voice almost reverent, and Louis makes himself look at Liam's face. He expects that Liam's attention will be all for his dick, but instead Liam's already staring back at Louis's face, mouth dropped open. 

Louis feels himself flush, his entire body hot with it, having a rough wank while Liam watches. He tightens his fist around the head, foreskin slipping over and off it on every stroke. 

Closing his eyes for just a moment, he spreads his legs more, left hand gripping the inside of his thigh while his fist flies over his cock. He digs his fingers in, focusing on the pressure. When he feels Liam's hand on his other thigh, he opens his eyes, gasping at the touch. 

"Fuck," he grits out, Liam's fingers slowly sneaking their way up his inner thigh, stroking right along his balls, so close to where he's still wet and messy from getting fucked. "Oh, god," he moans, voice catching on the word as he comes, legs twitching against the pressure of Liam's hands. 

He sinks back into the bed, entire body trembling while he comes down from it, breath getting caught on every exhale. He's hot and sticky and covered in lube and his own spunk, but when Liam flops down next to him and pulls him close, he doesn't even think about resisting. 

That doesn't mean Liam's completely off the hook. "Call me Becks," Louis mutters, poking Liam in the stomach. 

Liam groans and hides his face against Louis's neck. "I was trying to be _nice._ "

"You were trying to be a great big coward, you mean," Louis immediately retorts. 

"Oh, unlike you, who just hides in his hotel room?" Liam says incredulously. He may have a point. 

"Well." Louis sighs and settles closer to Liam, halfway to sleep already. "I will never forgive you if you manage to somehow meet Beckham again and don't immediately get me. I will fill your pillows with spiders."

"Okay," Liam says sleepily.

"And superglue your shoes to the floor."

"Fine."

"And force you to carry me everywhere for the rest of _time._ " 

"Deal."

Louis supposes he can live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> [livejournal](http://mistresscurvy.livejournal.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/mistresscurvy) | [tumblr](http://mistresscurvy.tumblr.com/)


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